


Little moments

by justmariamay



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2018-04-23 15:21:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 16,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4881853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justmariamay/pseuds/justmariamay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just little fics from my tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. (Lucifer/Michael)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michifer. Reverse Au with Devil!Michael.  
> Marigold - grief  
> Nettle - cruelty

 

“Father is dead, Lucifer. So let Him rest in peace,” Michael’s hands on his face are gentle as ever. But they don’t ease the pain in his wings where they have been nailed to the wall.  
  
Lucifer’s faithful angels are also immobilized and Michael’s ‘children’ are circling them like vultures.  
  
“How could you, Michael?! How could you do it?!” tears are streaming down Lucifer’s face. The loss is destructive. And he can’t yet grasp it in its full measure.  
  
“That’s what he always expected from me, Lucifer. He always foresaw himself ruined by his own creation. He always feared me, though I never gave him a single reason to. But I did what he wanted from me, I became his downfall. After all, I’m a good son,” not a shade of sarcasm in Satan’s words.  
  
He let’s go of Lucifer’s face and archangel hates that he’s already missing the warmth of Michael’s hands. His tears fell cold compared to it. He missed it since Michael gave that mocking bow to their Father and descended to Earth to never come back to Heavens.  
  
“You should kill me now, Michael, or else…”  
  
“Or else what?” green irises are challenging. “I don’t want your death. Or death of our brothers and sisters. I have everything I ever wanted. Well, almost everything,” he adds meaningfully.  
  
Lucifer glances at the demons, those heathens with burnt and flayed skin, laid bare to the sun, rain and snow. Tracing his look Michael muses:  
  
“Devil makes us sin, they say… True, I do. Want to know why, brother dearest?” Michael throws a fond look on one of his disgusting demons by his side. A woman, or what is supposed to be a woman.  
  
“You must hate them so much,” hisses Lucifer. He himself could never find much love for humanity. Too dirty and pitiful.  
  
Michael laughs.  
  
“Oh no, I don’t. I love them and I want to have them all, it killed me every time I had to surrender any of those beautiful souls to Father’s care.”  
  
It’s just ridiculous. None of it seems to be real. None of it should be real.  
  
“I shall kill you, Michael. I swear I will,” Lucifer has no strength to yell, but sheer hate is evident in cold tone of his voice.  
  
“Careful, Lucifer, wrath is a sin,” then Michael leans to his ear and he shudders from unbearable heat of his brother’s breath. “Or is there a chance that you too long for my infernal embrace?”


	2. Not a sound (Lucifer/Michael)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michifer. Serial killer AU.

Silence is fragile. Too fragile, as if heavy hammer has stopped right above the anvil. All little sounds gather on thin thread between the two of them. Two of them… sometimes Michael feels like there is nobody else in the whole world. Just two of them. But there is someone else’s blood on the blade in tight grip of Lucifer’s right hand. Someone else’s tears soaked his shirt.

He stopped on his track as soon as he saw Michael. Michael wasn’t supposed to be home. And Lucifer wasn’t supposed to come home covered in blood. But Michael is glad he did. Michael wants to say something. He wants to say that he understands. But silence is holy, it belongs with temple, not with their small apartment. He hopes Luce understands that he understands. That he shouldn’t be afraid. That he shouldn’t torment himself. Michael would never judge him. More than that… Lucifer may kill Michael as well. It won’t confuse Michael at all. He probably won’t even scream. He wouldn’t dare to. But… Lucifer won’t touch him. And that’s a problem. He backs to the wall when Michael approaches him.

Michael is looking Lucifer right in the eye and is smiling, when he closes his hand around the knife. Still sinks into his flesh and cuts deep. And Lucifer doesn’t notice until thick red drops start falling on the floor. He tries to yank the knife away, but Michael’s grip is stronger. Michael is stronger. Surrendering Lucifer lets the hilt go first, then Michael let’s go off the blade. The noise it makes is not enough to disturb the silence. But it’s enough to prompt Lucifer do it instead. Not that Michael would have any of it. He puts a finger of another hand on frozen lips before any sound can make it through. Lucifer’s breath is quick and so warm, his head hung. Michael joins their foreheads and only his finger separates their lips. He doesn’t resist when Lucifer in quick movement changes their positions. His brother’s hands hold his shoulders and he looks like he’s the one in pain. Maybe he is.

Michael takes his face in both hands, painting the pale with red. It’s pretty. Beautiful. He wants Lucifer to make him beautiful too. Wants his mark carved on his back and burned on his chest. Breath hitches in his throat when Lucifer takes that hand and kisses it. Again and again, licking at the blood still oozing from the wound. Michael has to swallow a moan that rushes from below his chest.

One day Lucifer will understand him too. One day he will give him what he wants. Wings. But this… this is a blessing too. Darkness. Silence. Darkness. Silence. Every breath is a prayer. And between every inhale and exhale an angel falls from the night sky.


	3. Claustrophobia (Lucifer/Michael)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Lucifer in Cage with open ending, because I'm evil.

Oh, how angry Lucifer was when he left this cage, righteously vengeful. But now, after these empty walls closed around him for the second and maybe last time? He is even angrier. He wonders, if Father meant to cool down his rage by building this prison. Well, he cooled down indeed. To that impossible (as humans think) level of absolute zero. Only, that rage burned only stronger, only multiplying itself by reflecting from the walls. It was stiff then, but now it’s just suffocating, and Lucifer is partly glad that Death took the Winchester, making a bit more place to… exist. Though bigger part of him felt bitter, because Sam wasn’t punished enough for betraying him.

But even with Sam gone it was hard to breath, with another Winchester here. That little pathetic thing is hiding somewhere in Michael’s wings and still taking more place than the both archangels. And Michael… strangely enough, it seemed like he occupied no space at all. Which is completely ridiculous. Because no matter how Lucifer hates to admit it, Michael was always so much bigger than him. One would think, should he open his wings, the Cage will crumble. But no. It’s like Michael isn’t even here, like he stopped existing. Like Lucifer lost him right after he found him. And it infuriates him. Every time he tries to hit his brother he hits the wall. Every single time. And now… it’s just scary. Fear, an emotion not exactly unfamiliar, but sure as Hell not welcome, creeps into his heart: what if it’s only an illusion? What if Michael got lost on the way down here? What if he… died? And that’s when true terror binds him.

“Michael…” he calls his brother’s name for the first time in ages.

A glimmer of bright eyes marks the place where Michael is supposed to be, usually it takes time for Lucifer to find out where exactly Michael is. Because Michael is colourless for the most part.

“Are you there, brother?” he tries desperately, for once not caring how vulnerable he sounds.

“Always,” comes barely audible answer. But…

But Michael hasn’t spoken. Lucifer can swear those bloodless lips never opened to let out a single word. Is he stalking to himself? He did that. He did that when he was all alone. Does it mean that?..

Lucifer takes a step forward, Michael’s figure is still there. Then another one, Michael isn’t gone yet. The third and the last and there is barely an inch separating them. Lucifer is afraid. He can’t feel warmth of Michael’s grace. But it’s just because he’s so cold himself, isn’t it? Isn’t it? Uncertainly he raises his hand and already imagines how it will touch his brother’s skin, how it will bury itself in his brother’s hair and maybe find it’s way to his wings. There, nothing separates them, he just needs to cross this nothing. So he does that. And…


	4. Amnesia (Lucifer/Michael)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fem age reversed Michifer. Abuse, character death and vaguely referenced incest.

Michaella can’t recognize her own face as she stares in the mirror in hospital bathroom. Her face is all black and blue and red: broken nose, split lip and eyebrow. There are finger marks on her neck, her stomach is also covered with bruises, old and new, two ribs are broken. She’s crying because everything hurts so bad. Why did she refuse taking painkillers? She tried to be strong. She really did. And she failed. If not for Lucy she could be already dead. If she didn’t call her estrangled sister for help, she would be dead, but also dad would be alive and Lucy wouldn’t be lying on hospital bed. And really, right at the moment Chell is not that happy to be alive.

A worried nurse knocks on the bathroom door.

“Are you alright there, dear?”

Of course she’s not. It still hurts to speak, but she says she’ll be back in a minute. 

“You sister has woken up…” nurse sounds uncertain. “You should go see her.” 

So she does. She doesn’t have more tears to cry as doctor tells her her sister suffered amnesia due to concussion. But he also says that it will pass soon, though there is a little chance that memories of the latest events will ever return. Maybe it’s for the best. She steps into the ward and gives Lucy a reassuring smile, which hurts and probably looks like an ugly grimace. But Chell can’t help smiling, her big sister is awake and beautiful as always. 

“How are you feeling, Lucy?”

“Obviously better than you… Michaella, right?”

“You’ve always called me Chell,” she answers weakly, carefully sitting on the edge of the bed, turning her face away. 

“I killed our dad, didn’t I?”

With a kitchen knife. Then slipped and fell off the stair. 

“You defended me and yourself. Dad… he wasn’t alright,” not since Lucy left them. She stayed near Chell, but not near enough.

Lucy is silent  and Michaella speaks up:

“I’m sorry, Lucy. I shouldn’t have called. I should have called the police…” she should have called them months before. 

Cool fingers touch her burning skin.

“Look at me.”

Chell could never say no to her sister. There are tears in those blue-blue eyes. 

“How… how could I let this happen?” 

“You didn’t. I did,” admits Michaella. 

“Where was I?” cool fingers caress her neck. 

“Living your own life, like all the people do,” damn, she’s crying again. “Colledge, job, friends, freedom… You were so happy with it. It made me happy,” it made her jealous too. “Can we talk later? My throat hurts.”

“Sure, sure, Chell. We’ll have all the time to talk,” Lucy cups her little sister’s face carefully and yet forcefully. “Because I’ll never let this happen again, you hear me? This I won’t forget. We are going to be fine. I promise.”

Lucy always liked to make promises she couldn’t keep. Chell is almost sure her sister won’t want to do anything with her when she remembers what they did. But now… she’s willing to believe.


	5. (Lucifer/Michael)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michifer. Meeting at a party whilst drunk.

“Go get some fresh air, Lucy!” Gabriel pushes his brother out and slams the door. Little shit. Won’t let the big brother have some fun. ‘Scaring the guests,’ huh…

Lucifer makes one of his famous faces at the door and flops on the porch not risking going down these three… or six… or seven stairs.

“M not Lucy…” he grumbles. Hell, he’s gonna have some killer hangover in the morning. Or most probably in the afternoon.

Suddenly he hears a voice behind him reciting a poem:

She lived unknown, and few could know  
When Lucy ceased to be;  
But she is in her grave, and oh,  
The difference to me…

There is a guy sitting on windowsill of kitchen’s window. Lucifer has never seen him before. Must be some friend of a friend of a friend.

“Don’t remember the rest,” the guy sitting says regretfully.

“How optimistic. Poe?”

“Words-” he hiccuped, “-worth,” the guy glares and actually looks offended. How cute.

“Whatevurrr…” purrs Lucifer. “By the way, are you not cold?” now that he crawled a little closer he notices the stranger lost his shirt somewhere. It’s not strange seeing someone shirtless on these parties, but it’s late October.

“I’m never going to play drinking games again,” the guy states firmly if a little clumsily. “Or rather never-ever drink again.” Yeah, they all say that. But how exactly Lucifer missed it?

“Who’re you anyway? I can’t remember seeing your pretty face before.”

“If you weren’t blinded by your own enormous ego, you would.”

“Hmm… know what else I got enormous?” Lucifer winks wickedly.

The guy looks completely unimpressed.

“I suspect it’s your hy-,” he hiccups again, “-pothalamus.”

Wha-

“I don’t have hippopotamus!“

The guy fails at keeping a straight face and crack a smile, then starts laughing uncontrollably and falls over on the kitchen floor. Lucifer is surprised at himself when he bothers to stand up and check on his guest. The stranger is sprawled on the floor and still giggling.

“You okay there, merry fella?”

“Yes, thank you, Satan,” the answer was muffled by hands over that handsome face.

“Didn’t catch your name, angel,” it’s said with equal doses of sarcasm and interest.

“It’s Michael.”

Lucifer smiles at the irony and the sight before him.

“Well, Michael… if you are still this hot and cute when I’m sober, I’ll ask you out.”


	6. Mistake (Lucifer/Michael)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michifer, regret and mistake.

Michael let Lucifer push him against the wall, let him get close, not afraid Lucifer might hurt him. Never afraid. But he should be.

“Did you want to tell me something, Luce?” as if nothing has changed, Michael’s speech is measured, slow and easy, as if he doesn’t have a hand wrapped around his neck. “If you did, then do it now.”

Maybe Lucifer should. Maybe they both should stop this ridiculous dance on the mortal remains of unspoken words. Maybe they should speak to break this silence in between that separate them like unbreakable wall. But Michael has nothing left to say and he’s not the one to repeat himself. Somewhere in the building the sound of a door slummed shut sounds like an exploded bomb, reminding them that it’s war with no hope for armistice.

“Why so cold, Sunshine?” attempt to make it sound mockingly has failed because Lucifer’s voice shakes, betraying him. But then Michael casts his eyes down away and Lucifer realizes he’s not the only one to let his guard down.

Michael doesn’t answer. He never does when answer is evident. So Lucifer advances and seizes his brother’s unwilling (though only for seconds) lips and it feels like victory is close, when those strong hands clung to him desperately.

Lucifer always thought he and Michael were made for each other, fitting together like sinner and sin. Like regret and mistake. Lucifer became father’s greatest regret, but Michael… Michael always has been father’s greatest mistake. Lucifer knows it now. But father won’t be here any more and he can’t judge them.


	7. Your Grace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some unclear Michifer or Michean.

Good evening, your grace. It’s been a long time since we saw each other. Forgive me, your grace, but usually I can’t bring myself to visit you. But today… Some sailor came searching for you. Seemed like he hadn’t been shaving for weeks. He was tattered and barefoot. He stormed in right before the dawn holding a hammer. He smashed all the dishes, he broke all the furniture, ha-ha… He was looking for you, your grace. He awoke everyone in the house. He was shouting so loud, it’s a wonder you didn’t wake up as well… ah, forgive me. Nobody could calm him down… honestly, we couldn’t calm down, your grace. We tried to tell him he couldn’t see you, but he kept raging on… until lady Raphael slapped him. She came out wearing only her nightdress, I’m sure you wouldn’t approve, your grace, but I’m sure you are proud of her. She told him where to find you. She was crying and then… he started crying too. But he hasn’t come to see you yet, has he? He will, your grace. I know he will. It’s getting late, I should go now. … Good night, your grace.


	8. Virmire (Lucifer/Michael)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michifer, Mass Effect AU. Character death.

Commander Michael Milton, soldier of the Alliance, first human Spectre has made difficult decisions. They call him Butcher of Torfan for a reason. Soldiers fight, soldiers die. And Michael understands that.

But Virmire is different. Yes, he sent soldiers to their death, but he went with them. Here he decides who lives, who dies. If they all don’t die here of course. Damn Lucifer for setting the bomb off! He has to think quickly. All personal feelings aside. Right behind him young Asari Raphael tries to hold back tears and ex C-Sec Turian Castiel looks absolutely helpless. This is Michael’s decision to make and he will have to live with it. Lucifer and Gabriel are shouting at him and each other, even Lucifer plays a self-sacrificing hero and he wishes they both would just shut up.

Lucifer outranks Gabriel, but he has no discipline. And he is racist. And too trigger-happy, even compared to Michael himself. And Gabriel… he’s the heart of the crew really, a better part of it anyway. And the choice is obvious.

But Lucifer is also very charismatic and smart. Michael has admired Luce since their mission on Eden Prime… no, no personal feelings. They don’t matter, especially when they are unrequited. Or even there is a chance that they are, he and Luce would never work and Michael knows better than pursuit this. But who is he kidding? Lucifer loves nobody but himself.

“Gabriel, radio Ash and tell him to meet us at AA Tower.”

“Commander, I…” Gabriel sounds lost. Of course. He’ll never become like Michael, good for him.

“Do as I said, Novak,” presses Michael.

“Aye-aye, Commander.”

“Common Gabe, listen to our Commander, occasionally he makes a right choice,” Lucifer sounds genuinely happy with this outcome.

“Lt., Luce…” what can he say? What the fuck can he say? ‘I’m sorry, I love you, you asshole, but I leave you here to die’? “Looks like you’re going to die a hero,” he says instead.

“Oh, gonna cry over me, Milton?” Lucifer asks mockingly.

“Keep dreaming,” he answers in the same way, preparing to hate himself even more.

“See you in hell, Commander,” Lucifer laughs shakily. And the comm goes dead.


	9. (Lucifer/Michael)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michifer, Android AU

Chuck finally made it. Lucifer, his best creation so far. He is perfect. The most human as a robot can get. He learns fast. He calls Chuck a father. He is capable to appreciate beauty. He knows what is good and what is bad. But there is one flaw. Michael.

Michael is his first more or less successful project. A prototype. He was special for Chuck in a way. Actually many considered him… it his best creation. But that’s the point, Michael is just it. A machine, obedient, easily reprogrammed. And emotions were never part of his code and Chuck never found a way to improve it.

But Lucifer was attached to Michael. And not in a way a child is attached to his favorite toy.

“Why are you so often with Michael? There is a better company for you.”

“No, Michael is the best! He’s beautiful and kind, he always helps me! I love him.”

What a disappointment that of all people Lucifer could love and actually fall in love with he chose a cold unfeeling machine. And for some reason Lucifer doesn’t give up.

“I love you, Michael. Do you love me?”

“No data available,” was the only answer. Michael had a waste dictionary but he couldn’t make the connection between ‘me’, ‘you’ and ‘love’. And to say the truth Chuck had little desire to help it finding it.

But Chuck panics when he notices the spark of understanding in Michael’s artificial eyes. He panics when Michael starts squeezing Lucifer’s hand back.

No, he won’t have it. He won’t waste his best creation like this. So makes an attempt to fix this. If Michael just says no, Lucifer will forget about him. To fix Michael will be easier than search the parts of Lucifer’s code responsible for his affection.

It doesn’t end like Chuck expected. He finds the broken parts of Michael and Lucifer sitting in the corner cradling Michael’s head.

Chuck suddenly realizes that he’s broken both androids. His both sons.


	10. Lucifer/Michael

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fem!Michifer, greek mythology AU

The moon is out and forest is even more alive than during the day. Pan is playing on his reedpipe and nymphs dance to it. The storm is gathering above. The dance is crazy, ecstatic and two most beautiful goddesses get closer to each other than ever. Naiad Lucia and Hamadryad Chelia. All inhabitants of the forest know how willow reaches out to the silver river. But river is always running towards the sea, not noticing sad modest willow. Willow cries and her tears mix with the clear water.

And now the wind is so strong it tilts the tree impossibly close to the river flow.

Lucia is giggling and evades Chellia’s gentle hands. She lets her touch her, whispers sweetest promises, but Chellia knows that Lucia is lying. Lucia simply doesn’t care. And yet she leans closer and closer, begging the Aeolus to blow harder. And he answers her prayers.

Chellia doesn’t scream as her trunk breaks painfully and she dies with the tree. Lucia just laughs and carries her dead body to be lost and forgotten in the seas.


	11. Cold War (Dean/Michael)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michean, star-crossed lovers AU. 1977, Cold War. FBI Agent Dean and possibly/probably/more likely than not/ totally is Soviet Spy Michael.

Look closer. Befriend if possible. Find out if they are related to Soviets in any way. That’s what they told him. That’s what they trained him for. But ever since Dean stepped into the warm shadow of this simple little bookstore and met the owners, the duty and personal feelings started to rip him apart.

He didn’t like the father much, he was just a grumpy old man, but the son… Dean wishes he never knew him. But now he can’t stay away. At first he was determined to expose them on the first opportunity. But they seemed to be just people. Or they did great job at looking like that.

And at first Michael is just a guy, who wears glasses, plays the violin and gives piano lessons. Then Michael is the guy who talks about socialism and his dad is not happy about it. Then Michael is the guy Dean can barely stand, because he thinks himself so smart. Then Michael is the guy with surprisingly good punch. Then Michael is the guy he makes up with over a bottle of beer. And then… Michael is the guy Dean can’t live without.

Dean can’t pinpoint the exact moment he started falling or when Michael started falling. It happens too quick for both of them to realize what a grave mistake they have made. it’s all kind of wrong, because they are both men, but it’s not just that. That is reason enough Dean can lose his job and it would be the best consequence. No, there is something worse about their connection.

Michael knows who Dean is. He knows where he keeps his gun. And Dean starts to realize who Michael is. Not just a communism sympathizer.

Dean notices the signs. And Michael knows. They don’t talk about it. Dean never asks his real name, never asks if the old man is really his father, never asks what is this right between them. When they are alone together the silence is golden, precious and Dean will be damned if he dares to break it.

For now Dean wants to ignore all of it: slight mistakes in english usage, the knife Michael hides in his boot and fake glasses he wears. Dean doesn’t want to know. Not when he has Michael so close, when they are sharing breath and rough touches, when the world becomes so small and warm. When all their dear secrets crush into pieces and mean no more.

Dean doesn’t want to know. But Dean is aware that Michael keeps a cyanide capsule under his collar and that he’s ready to bite it any second. So Dean pulls Michael’s shirt off and throws it away.


	12. (Dean/Michael)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michean, writer and editor AU

Dean was furious. He had received his copy back for the third time. Third fucking time! And is it his imagination, but there are even more notes and corrections made in red ink. Red ink… it’s like he’s in school again. Ah, dude, you chose this ‘career’, now suffer.

The more he looks at the copy the more confused he becomes. What do they want from him? He decides to dial the publishing house. But he’s editor has a holiday. Ah, yes, it’s the weekend. Remember, Dean, what weekend is? You used to have those too. But he gets his home number, because he says it’s urgent and lies very well. In truth he just wants to ask: what the hell?

He hasn’t met his editor yet, they just never happened to be in one place at the time. Mysterious M. Milton. At first Dean had impression it was woman, very neat handwriting and so much PMSing (he just can’t find another word to it). Then he learned it’s a man and imagined a professor kind of type with glasses and graying hair. So he’s surprised to hear a young sound voice over the phone.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Milton? This is Dean… um Winchester,” Dean, you speak like a school girl.

“Ah, yes, Mr. Winchester. Have you received my notes? Do you have questions?”

Does he have…

“Of course I do! I mean, I’ve been rewriting this since forever and you only give me more of you damned red ink!” he heard a sigh on the other end and immediately felt stupid. When will you grow up, Winchester?

“I hoped, you would see, what I want from you… In that case, come over with your copy tonight? We’ll discuss it,” and he nonchalantly said his address and repeated. “I’ll be waiting, please don’t come too late,” and hang up.  
What the actual fuck?

At 8 p.m. he was at an apartment door crumpling his damn copy. Finally, he pressed the button and the door was opened by the guy who looked no older than Dean himself. For a moment Dean thought he made a mistake and this was the wrong apartment. Because no way his editor could be a freaking Adonis too lazy to put on some shirt. Focus, Dean.

“Mr. Winchester, finally,” the shake hands politely. “Come on in,” Mr. Milton invited his guest inside.

Dean dropped his shoes and locked the door behind him, then followed his host inside.

It was a spacious studio apartment. In one corner was the sofa, in other kitchen, by the window was an office table in complete disorder. And book were organized right on the floor. Hmm, so Dean’s not only one who does that.

“Tea, coffee?” offered his too hot (by any meaning) editor.

Dean politely refused.

“So, you had questions for me? Um… can I call you Dean?”

Dean nodded. Would be ridiculous if they continued ceremonies.

“Just Michael then,” concluded Mil… Michael.

Ah, yes. Questions. Dean kinda forgot he wanted to kill this guy an hour ago.

“What exactly is wrong this time?” he showed the poor copy of his hopefully novel.

“Everything is marked,” stated Michael.

“Yeah, cap, I noticed. But what all this ‘why’s mean?”

“Simple. I don’t see what motivates most of your characters,” before Dean could ask which Michael continued. “Like those brothers. It’s like they don’t know each other at all.”

“Well, it happens…” starts Dean, because he for his part is not so sure what Sammy’s up to these days.

“Not like this. I’ll give you an example. ‘Karamazovs brothers’, know this one?”

Who does he take Dean for? Of course he doe…

“Good example, especially if you in your work address to high forces like angels and demons. So, remember. Four sons of one father and three different mothers, raised for the most part separately, but each of them knew at least one of his brothers almost too well…”

A heated discussion followed. About Dostoevsky and Dean’s novel too. And when suddenly Dean found himself cornered he remembered one thing. From ‘The great inquisitor’. So he stood up, approached Michael and pressed his lips to his.  
“I’m Jesus, your argument invalid.”

At first his host looked outraged but then he just sank to the floor and burst out laughing. Well, they both did.


	13. (Lucifer/Gadreel/Michael)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer/Michael/Gadreel, MMA AU.  
> Gadreel and Lucifer decide to get Michael drunk to find out if he somehow cheated the scales. And possibly to get into his pants (it’s actually the priority, they just don’t know it).

“He cheated. He totally did. Just look at him,” grumbles Lucifer secretly content with it. A thought Michael could cheat was outrageous, but remembering who his trainer is… well, okay, maybe.

Michael changed weight category. Now he was in the same as Gadreel and Lucifer, which surprised the whole community. He totally doesn’t look like he got more muscle mass and he definitely hasn’t got taller. He doesn’t look any different at all: still lean and swift. But here he is, conquering the ring, already beating Azazel by score. Raphael cheers surprisingly loudly for her friend (and not for her boyfriend).

This match is certainly a piece of art: both Michael and Azazel are performers and tacticians, rare kind among fighters. They give quite a show. But Lucifer can think is that finally he and Michael are going to have a public revanche. Seriously, their rivalry is glorious and freaking scary. 

Gadreel for his part looks forward and dreads meeting Michael Milton on the ring. His own match with Azazel ended… interestingly. He managed to knock the man out, but lost by score unbelievably.

Michael at first avoids close contact evading Azazel’s strikes but it’s evident that both are getting tired. Azazel was first to make risky move. He ducked under Michael’s arm to get behind him and performed guillotine choke, one of the most popular and effective moves. But Michael doesn’t submit. He grits his teeth, his face redden but he bends down and throws Azazel over. Auditory is going crazy at this point.

“Oh boy, Azazel, buddy, keep it cool…” Gadreel hears Lucifer whisper through his teeth. Apparently Azazel is loosing patience. And Gadreel knows by experience where this leads. And Azazel should know better as well.

Michael wins. Not too surprising but unexpected all the same. Azazel grudgingly accepts it. He and Raphael even help Lucifer to convince Michael to celebrate it.

Evening was nice. Gadreel sits back to the wall and watches with half-lidded eyes, his long legs sprawled across Lucifer’s bed. He’s had little too much (like everyone else) and doesn’t remember when exactly Azazel and Raphael, the unlikely lovebirds, left. He’s lost the sense of time completely.

“Admit it, Mikey! You cheated! You bribed someone at medical examination!” Lucifer can’t stop pestering Michael. Gadreel doesn’t really care. Michael can take opponents bigger and heavier than him.

“I mean look!” he stands up from the bed-couch-and-whatever-Lucifer-uses-it-for they sprawled and picks up Michael bridal style easily, “You are not any heavier!” and then Lucifer swings him around.

Michael’s expression is absolutely priceless and his blush is absolutely adorable.

“Gadreel can confirm! Right, Gade?” and Gadreel gets armful of Michael after Lucifer unceremoniously drops him down.

“Light as a feather…” he mumbles suddenly aware how warm and nice Michael feels in his arms.

“I hate you, guys,” slurs Michael but makes no effort to break free from Gadreel’s hold. He got too drunk and still keeps his secrets secret.

“No, you don’t!” Lucifer whines like a little boy, “Come on, Mikey! Say it! You looove us!”

“Leave me alone, Luce,” Michael hides his face in Gadreel’s chest. Absentmindedly Gadreel starts stroking his thick black hair.

“Oh-ho-ho, why so shy, Michael?” amused Lucifer plops down close to them.

Michael breaths something into his chest but Gadreel has no idea what it was.

“Didn’t hear you, sweetheart,” Lucifer whispers into Michael’s ear putting hand on Gadreel’s knee. Michael shudders and oh boy, this all is going somewhere else. Suddenly everything becomes so intimate. Gadreel’s only wish that they were sober. But he gets what he gets.

He gently pulls Michael’s hair to unstuck him from his chest and silently slants his mouth over his. The kiss is lazy and tastes with alcohol. Then Michael’s smooth skin is replaced with Lucifer’s stubble, and there are wandering hands and damn! Why does it feel so right?

It doesn’t get any further than that though. They are too drunk and Michael is tired from the fight. He is the first to pass out, Lucifer and Gadreel fall asleep shortly after, all three snuggled together.

When Gadreel wakes he regrets everything because hangover is a bitch. What did he do yesterday?.. Oh. Oh. Yes, he remembers now. Lucifer groans as he wakes up as well. And Michael… he isn’t here, realizes Gadreel with disappointment. But what has he expected? A happily ever after?

Lucifer moans miserably. At least Gadreel isn’t suffering alone.

“What a sorry sight.”

Gadreel opens his eyes and sees Michael looking just peachy. And wearing what Gadreel assumes are Lucifer’s shorts and shirt.

“Hey, these are mine!” complains Lucifer.

“I thought you wouldn’t mind,” says Michael dismissively. Gadreel hears Lucifer mumble something awfully like ‘I don’t’.

“Where were you?” Gadreel asks huskily.

“Jogging,” Michael shrugs.

“You are monster, Mikey,” Lucifer groans and buries his head between Gadreel’s shoulder blades.


	14. (Eve/Lilith)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lilith/Eve. Daylily - coquetry.

Two women. One is a mother. Another is a child. Though none of them supposed to be those things. And yet here they are, examining each other with wonder. Eve supposes they could call each other sister.

Eve laughs at how light plays in Lilith’s eyes whipped clean white with divine light of the fallen Archangel. Eve knew him too, not as close as her new acquaintance has, but close enough to make another child. Eve knew her human lover too, Cain. And Lilith knows she did. They look each other in the eyes without a sound, without a gesture, only their mutual smiles say: ‘I know, that you know, that I know, that you know’. They both were left mysteries never unraveled by men or other beings similar men.  
Lilith is such a child, in so many ways, but pretty head cocked and teeth biting lower lip don’t seem childish, not when Eve is looking closer. Lilith is ugly and beautiful at the same time, Eve can see through that mortal flesh she’s hiding in. But Eve is in similar situation, though this skin is her own now.

On a whim she copies a body that used to be Lilith’s. It’s meant as compliment. But Lilith doesn’t show any recognition, but she laughs and claps her hands.

“I’ve heard a lot about you, Lilith,” Eve finally speaks.

“Only bad things, I hope,” her smile widens.

Smell of sulfur doesn’t repulse Eve, she had much worse.

“Things most deliciously sinful.”

Women. Someone else’s mortal sin. But here, in the ruins of Enoch they are queens, not under holy jurisdiction.


	15. (Michael/Benny)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael/Benny. Nanny/single parent au

Benny was skeptical and not overly sure about the new babysitter. Tessa, the nicest girl who has worked for him until now, said he’s good with children. He. Benny had doubts a man could handle his little girl. But he was willing to give the guy a chance. Anyway, it was just temporary before agency found him a professional.  
  
Young man knocked at his door right at 4 p.m. At least he was punctual. He totally wasn’t looking like ‘good with children’ kind of type. But he was good looking.  
  
“Michael. Michael Milton,” the handshake was strong and firm. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Laffite.”  
  
“Benny is fine,” even his employees didn’t call him Mr. Laffite. Liz was already hiding behind him peeking at this Michael curiously.  
  
“And you are, little lady?” Michael knelt on one knee.  
  
Liz proudly stepped out and declared:  
  
“My name is Elizabeth Katherine Laffite. I’m four. Almost five,” she makes sure to add, though it was really far from ‘almost’.  
  
Surprisingly Michael hadn’t laughed and carefully shook the tiny hand. Well, maybe he wasn’t bad at all. Benny warned he would be home only after midnight and left.  
  
When he returned Liz was sleeping peacefully. Michael was sitting on the couch reading Moby Dick he borrowed from Benny’s collection.  
  
“I hope Liz wasn’t too much trouble?”  
  
“She’s sure an energetic child. But it’s good, she’s a good girl,” Michael was clearly tired, but smile was genuine.  
  
Liz on the other hand was in delight from her new babysitter, said he was a real prince. Benny had to agree, he rarely could argue with his girl. Day after Liz said Michael was a wizard and next time that they both were nights and defeated big bad dragon. Also, she made clear Benny had to play pirates with them some time. The guy knew exactly how to entertain kids.  
  
By the end of the first week when Michael was preparing to leave, Benny had to comment:  
  
“You never complained. Not even once. Even Tessa admitted Liz is not an angel after few days.”  
  
“I’ve dealt with worse,” after a pause Michael clarified, “my siblings. I’m the eldest in big family. Childhood is not about being an angel.”  
  
“It’s either child is angel or adult is saint,” laughs Benny.  
  
“Well, I’m hardly saint,” Michael winked. Aaand…  
  
“Is that a compliment to my daughter or are you flirting with me?”  
  
“Can’t it be both?” and before Benny could reply Michael was out the door. “Good night, Benny!”  
  
Despite the wish, Benny couldn’t fall asleep until he decided he should invite Michael for dinner next weekend. So three of them could play pirates and then… time would tell.


	16. (Michael/Dick Roman)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick/Michael, cop/person getting a speeding ticket au.

Dick pulled over to the side of the road as soon as he heard the sirens behind. Well he should have expected this when he decided to test his new Dodge Charger.  
  
He turned off the engine and turned on the inner lights. Usually it doesn’t take much. The cop who approached was a young man with stern expression on his face. Very handsome face by the way. Dick without questions showed his license and insurance. Usually after this police realized who he was and let him go. But, apparently not this guy.  
  
“You realize, you were driving almost twice speed limit, Mister Roman?” officer was pulling out his ticket pad.  
  
“Oh, was I? I’m afraid I didn’t,” and this was something. Possibly the cop was new here. Or…  
  
Dick took the ticket with strained smile. He wasn’t used to this.  
  
“Good night, Sir. Drive carefully.”  
  
And this was it. The guy probably was born only yesterday. Fine then. Oh wait, nothing was fine. Or wasn’t Dick fucking Roman. So the first thing he did, he asked Susan to deal with bloody ticket and learn the name of that brave or ignorant police officer. But no, without causing him trouble. Not yet anyway. Dick decided to give him another chance, which he rarely did. But it’s curious.  
  
Two days later he heard the sirens again and was very smug. Well, he was the hunter here after all. Or better, predator. And his prey, his white stag was approaching again. This time it was a different car and he didn’t exceed speed too much.  
  
“Mister Roman,” acknowledged officer, “Someone is very careless driver.”  
  
Not a direct offense. He was not a fool to take it personally. He knew all these games.  
  
“Whoever it is I feel sorry for him, officer Milton,” and he gave a surprised cop his most charming smile. “And for someone else, in case their colleagues shared the experience.”  
  
The corner of that tasty looking mouth twitched, but not nervously.  
  
“This someone just does his job, Mister Roman,” and Milton filled him another fine.  
  
“Oh, please, officer… Dick,” it wasn’t the last time they would see each other decided Dick. He was looking forward to knowing the other closer as well. And to eating him alive once he got tired of him.  
  
It really wasn’t the last time. Not that Dick had much free time, but every time he did he knew exactly how to kill it. Dick just knew when and where despite the changes in the rosters. Dick stopped and they exchanged new jibes again and again. One time his dear police officer even forgot to fine him. Sometimes Milton was with a partner who looked at the other officer like he was crazy. But the truth is, he was driving Dick crazy. He wasn’t afraid to lose his job it seemed. Wasn’t afraid of anything really. And it was something new. Refreshing. And dangerous. A prey that would fight back. He thought how else he could play with his new toy, when Susan hummed and said:  
  
“I thought you would be in jail already.”  
  
“Why is that, my dear?”  
  
“Assaulting a police officer, Sir,” she coughed a little.  
  
Before he got what she really meant she left to make another appointment. Smart girl, left right before he could say she was fired. On the other hand… she was right. That’s what he wanted.  
  
He just needed to decide: date at court or coffee would do fine too.  
  
Coffee happened to be fine. Even if it was just a shitty stuff from the nearest vending machine.


	17. Cataglottism (Michael/Dick Roman)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick/Michael. Cataglottism - Kissing with tongue.

Michael takes Dick by surprise pulling him down by his tie for a kiss. They are not doing it for the first time (far from it), it’s just Michael doesn’t usually initiate it. Not that Dick minds. 

Michael smells with shampoo and chlorine. Dick can feel the heat of his skin through the black T-shirt fabric. And it would be perfect if not for how tense Michael is. His lips are cold and won’t open. Whoever put him in this mood, Dick would gladly decimate them. But his partner would doubtfully appreciate this. 

Well, if you want to do something right…  Dick trails his hands up Michael’s arms feeling the goosebumps that covered his skin until he seizes his shoulders forcing Michael to back out. 

“What happened?” white fingers dig into lapels of his jacket. “Should I kill someone, hmm?”

Predictably Dick gets only a shake of that pretty head. But he got used to such stubbornness.

“Are you sure?“ 

Michael sucks his breath in but Dick doesn’t wait for a dismissive answer and nuzzles his neck listening a quickening pulse. His breath sends shivers up Michael’s body.

“Relax, Michael, I’m not going to bite just yet.”

But Michael knows better than to believe his word and the grip of his hands gets even stronger before Dick takes his lower lip between his sharp teeth and watches in delight the way black eyelashes flutter shut. That’s when Dick decides to get smart with his (skilled in every way, mind you) tongue. At first he is just teasing trailing over lips and teeth with a tip, pushing it a little further before withdrawing it. Michael is moving against him, but his arms braced against Dick’s chest are still like a barrier between them. Fine, he can keep it there if he wants. A light tickle of fingers on the sensitive skin on Michael’s neck and the defense is crumbling down. Now he pushes his own tongue into Dick’s mouth who answers with scraping his teeth at it. But Michael certainly lacks enthusiasm today and gives the dominance back. And Dick accepts it gladly. Michael can hold his breath for long, much longer than him, and yet the kiss doesn’t stop until Dick is sure he sucked all the tension out of his boyfriend. 

“Alright?” confirms Dick breathlessly, wiping off the corner of Michael’s now red mouth with his thumb.

Michael’s eyes flicker to his and suddenly he feels a gentle pressure of teeth on his finger. He definitely needs to get rid of this suit. It’s getting too hot here and air conditioner doesn’t help.


	18. Frigophobia (Michael/Dick Roman)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick/Michael. Frigophobia – fear of becoming too cold.

Rain is pouring down as if someone up there has opened all the heavenly taps with the coldest water possible. Raindrops almost hurt, getting under Michael’s skin with annoying stability. Usually cold doesn’t bother him that much, but he really hates to be out here right now. He’s soaked to the bone and barely feels his toes, his nose feels like an icecube glued to his face. He’s freezing. But worst of all he can’t make himself move. The faster he gets to some sort of shelter, the sooner he gets warm. But his feet refuse to make a single step. What is wrong with him?

“What a pathetic sight,” voice that he hears now too often interrupts his frantic flood of thoughts, “though adorably so, I must add.”

Richard Roman in propria persona. Michael does his best to ignore his teasing 

“I’m not even surprised anymore,” he comments instead. This strange ability to find him anywhere he goes… well, nothing supernatural here. “Admit it, you are spying on me, Richard.” Damn it, his teeth chatter like crazy, which make this sound not like a righteous accusation, but more like whiny complain.

Richard shows his teeth in his brand smile of number one predator. 

“Spying? More like looking after you. Someone has to,” he is mocking Michael. He always does and just can’t help it, but god knows Michael gives him enough reasons to.

Richard pulls Michael  by waist closer, under his umbrella. Michael would be embarrassed if he wasn’t so cold and not having those water needles piercing his skin is a welcome change. Warm breath ghosts at his neck and it takes all of Michael’s willpower to not throw himself on his… whatever he is (partner, boyfriend, friend with benefits, who cares?).

“Can’t afford losing you,” is whispered into his ear and Michael feels another kind of shiver running up his spine. Now this is embarrassing. But he’s physically heating up, which is not that bad.

“Oh, shut up,” he huffs exasperatedly. 

Of course Richard doesn’t, not right away, but Michael can tolerate it as long as he keeps his warm arm around him.


	19. (Michael & Lilith)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and his little nephew Lilith, things you said at the kitchen table

“Uncle Michael! Uncle Michael! Are you crying?”

Lilith is five, but she’s big enough to know that adults don’t cry. When she is adult she’s never going to cry. It’s okay only while she’s little.

“No, I’m not,” Michael sniffs. He’s definitely crying.

“Why are you crying?” she asks suspiciously.

Michael just shakes his head and keeps chopping something with a big knife.

“Did your girlfriend break up with you?” that’s a reason to cry, isn’t it? Stupid one, but a reason. When uncle doesn’t answer she presses: “Boyfriend then?”

“Lilith!” uncle’s voice sounds different when he’s crying. “Please, let me cook dinner in peace.”

“Not until you tell me who hurt you!”

“It’s just onion,” he shows at the table. “Lilith, what are you…”

Lilith has to make sure and practically puts her nose under uncle’s knife. Oh… the smell goes into her nose, then to her eyes and they start stinging.

“Okay, but…” she tries to stop tears, “but you’d tell me if someone hurt you, right? Right?” Lilith sobs. “Because… you know… I’d… I’d… teach them what’s… what… So if someone makes you cry… you… you tell me, promise, Uncle Michael?”

Uncle laughs through tears and says:

“Yes, Lilith, I promise.”

Five minutes later Lucifer found his brother and his little daughter crying at the kitchen table as if they just witnessed Mufasa dying for three times in a row.


	20. (Michael & Lucifer)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can I tell you a secret? Implied Dick/Michael.

Lucifer locks his locker and is ready to go. So is Michael, but he sits down on the bench and folds his hands. So, a talk then. Lucifer didn’t give the best performance today, but he didn’t need to. He’s not a perfectionist, thank you very much. But his partner is in his ‘mood’, so… 

“Okay, what I’ve done wrong this time?” Lucifer expects the lecture.

“Luce, can I tell you a secret?” Michael says quietly staring at his hands.

“A secret?” Lucifer gets impatient at the sound of it. They had no secrets between them since… ever. So he falls kerflop right next to Michael. “Go ahead.”

“Just don’t…”

“Cross my heart and hope to die! I’m a grave, Mike,” assures him Lucifer and even offers his pinky, leaving Michael no choice but to shake it.

“I’m… in a relationship,” states Michael.

“You… what?” 'Relationship’… not 'I’ve been on a date’, not 'I kissed someone’, not 'There is a person’… Relationship. “Oh, come on! You can’t be serious! I thought your skin crawled at mere thought!”

Michael makes a grimace that shows that it still does. Michael is just not a relationship material, only Lucifer puts up with him. And not because Michael is bad, it’s the opposite, but to say he is difficult would understatement of the century.

“So, relationship…” Lucifer makes air quotes with his fingers. “How long?”

“Few months,” vaguely replies Michael.

“How long?” he repeats.

“Two months and twenty-four days.”

Figures, meticulous ass. Lucifer pretends to be deeply hurt, that Michael hasn’t told him, his best (and only!) friend, until now, but proceeds to the point without much bitching.

“And who is that… thing?” that’s gender-neutral term for Lucifer. 'Thing’. “Do I know them?”

“You haven’t met him. He’s umm… a businessman.”

“Sounds awfully boring,” comments Lucifer.

“If only,” sighs Michael and shakes his head.

“What? Whatwhatwhat?!” Lucifer nothing but shouts in his friend’s sensible ears.

Michael jabs his ribs with his sharp elbow and then scrutinizes him for several seconds, then says completely serious:

“I don’t know how it’s possible, but I swear he’s worse than you.”

And that’s Michael for you, he just needs someone to get under his skin.

“Excuse you!.. Wait, now I just have to meet the guy!”

“I really don’t think it’s a good idea,” translation is 'no way in Hell’.

“We’ll see about it. But is he hotter than me?” now that’s important question.

Michael facepalms and that serves as opportunity for Lucifer to throw himself on his shoulders and whine:

“You still love me better, right? Come on, Mikey, you’re gonna break Becky’s heart! It’ll be the end of the world when everyone knows we are not together anymore!”  
Not that they ever were together as in together, but people make assumptions that both Lucifer and Michael learned to ignore.

“Sure,” says Michael exasperatedly. “Now can we go?”

“Yeah! But smooch for grumpy Mike first!” and Lucifer gives a sloppiest possible kiss to Michael’s clean-shaven cheek and runs to the exit, before his sociopath friend decides that enough is enough. 


	21. Deal with the Devil (Dean/Michael)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michean with Devil!Michael!

The one who appears on the crossroad isn’t the same demon that Dean deceived the last time. Dean can see it. It’s not even a male meatsuit, there is something else. For a crossroad demon this one lacks pixyish look or excitement on sinfully sensual lips, not to mention he expresses nor anger at the Winchester, nor even a curiosity. He just stands calmly in the demon trap with a raised eyebrow and a smile so little and serene that Dean doesn’t feel as bold as before. The demon has yet uttered a word. He just waits, looking Dean right in the eye, sending chills down his spine.

“Not a chatty type, huh? I thought you demons don’t know how to shut up,” sarcasm, pretense, defense. Dean has to swallow the lump formed in his throat under the heavy gaze of the evil spirit he’s summoned.

“This could be one of the most human feature of theirs,” comments a deep but carefree voice. “It’s charming right until it becomes annoying. But it hasn’t tired me yet,” it sounds almost condescending.  
Another long pause follows, extremely uncomfortable for the hunter and perfectly fine by the bastard in the drawn circle. He doesn’t initiate the deal, just picks Dean apart with his bright and yet somehow very dark eyes.

“You know, why I called you, demon. You know who I am and what I want.”

“Do I? I’m not that presumptuous unlike you. As far as I can tell you’ve summoned me to feast your eyes on me, Dean Winchester. Should I be flattered or offended? After all, I’m not a piece of meat,” the demon enjoys himself and mocks Dean.

“First of all, it’s not you I wanted to summon, but that bitch who…” starts Dean, but interrupted by soft ‘tsk-tsk-tsk’.

“Language. You’ve hurt and threatened to kill my little girl, of course I wouldn’t let her go,” to think of it, the guy does look a little pissed off, in a very cold way though. “Do you want to make a bargain, sinner? If not, I won’t stay here any further. Especially when I’m so sure, you’ll end up in Hell with me anyway, Dean,” he whispers his name and hunter can’t repress the shudder.

Then a strange thing occurs. The demon steps over perfectly made lines of the trap without sparing Dean a glance and Dean reaches for the colt.

“Stop right there!” Dean suddenly realizes he hasn’t been in control from the very start and it is frightening.

“Or what? You shoot me? Please, Dean, you don’t know who you deal with,” and with a flip of fingers colt hits the ground five meters away and bastard didn’t even look.

“I’ll bargain with you!” Dean yells desperately. “I want… I need Sam back!” he got nothing to lose anymore. Sam was his responsibility and he failed him, he failed dad and mom, everyone, but if he can fix it… even if with his life…

The demon faces him again and smiles:

“And what if said, that Samuel’s soul is in Heaven, if your brother is in a better place now? Would you still want him back?”

But Dean knows thee is no such thing.

“Paradise? Are you kidding me? There is no Heaven or God.”

“How beautifully selfish of you, Dean!” the soul-dealer laughs delightfully. “Holding onto your little unimportant lives like there is nothing bigger than that. So be it then.”

The demon steps closer and closer until his hot breath touches Dean’s skin. Then he continues:

“But I’m afraid the usual deal is out of our options. The conditions must be much more severe if you want to see your dearest Sam again,” the fear and great expectation takes a hold on Dean’s being, when demon touches his face with knuckles, lightly and gently. “You soul, your body, your allegiance and love… sacrifice it all to me and I promise we will get Sam back. Join me, Dean, and we shall make the Heaven fall.” The understanding overwhelms him the hunter, he knows whom he summoned… “Then you shall have your brother back. As I shall have all of mine.”

Dean doesn’t have much to give. He doesn’t find will or strength in him to resist the fathomless eyes and hypnotizing voice that now hums some song as the Devil caress his cheek. He can say no and walk away. And live with his guilt or at least try to.

“Your choice,” the green eyes turn completely black as Dean is given the last chance.

“I can do with my unimportant little life whatever I want, right?” he murmurs, grabs the wicked one by the collar and seals the deal with a kiss that burns his insides out. This infernal fire tempers his spirit and Dean doesn’t fight it, lets it go deeper and purge him from the burdens of his existence. It hurts, but this pain is almost ecstatic and Dean can’t have enough of it. After who knows how long he opens his eyes and sees them reflect in emerald orbs with blackness.

“How does that feel, Dean?”

Newly made demon grins and leans to kiss his master and creator again.


	22. (Michael/Dick Roman)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick/Michael. One character adjusting the other's jewelry/neck tie/ etc

“For a businessman you certainly lack the ability to tie your own tie properly, Richard,” Michael’s voice is muffled and he doesn’t even look at Dick hiding his face in the pillow.

“I’m doing just fine, thank you,” Dick replies a little annoyed.

“Sure, sure…” Michael is drifting back to sleep, which is understandable, because it’s 2 a.m. Well, only Dick can call the board meeting in the middle of the night and get away with it.

If he gets there first of course. The second attempt goes even worse than the first. Dick sighs exasperatedly. He hears more muffled sounds and with a corner of his eye sees Michael’s broad shoulders shifting. Dick comes to the bed and leans over Michael and asks suspiciously:

“Are laughing there, Michael?”

Michael turns on his back and stares back with a smile on his face.

“Can you blame me?”

“Can’t I? I thought mutual respect was a part of our relationship.” Actually having a relationship is the weirdest thing that happened to Dick in a while, it was still fresh and tentative, but they are past the phase when they were ready to kill each other over anything.

Michael chuckles and covers himself with a blanket completely, obviously not wanting to have any sort of conversation. But Dick always had problems with being ignored (and that’s one of the main reasons they both are here). He pulls of the blanket in one quick tug. Michael squirms from sudden cold and glares at him as murderously as his sleepy state allows. Now Dick is the one who’s laughing. Grinning he leans over Michael, close but without touching. Michael shoves him away in annoyance and gets up. Dick half expects him dress and leave without a word. It happens, when Dick is out of line. But instead Michael draws him near and takes Dick’s tie.

Michael looses hard knot with some effort and starts anew. Shame that Dick doesn’t follow the steps… oh, he does, but he’s more interested in hands themselves than in what they do. Michael makes it look easy, graceful, Dick can swear he isn’t even looking, because his eyes are more than half lidded.

“Here we go,” Michael turns down shirt’s collar. “And what would you do without me?” he said in joking tone.

Dick catches Michael’s wrists before he withdraws them. Something about the whole simple action makes Dick feel special for some reason.

“Will you stay?” usually he doesn’t ask for such things.

“Until morning, I’ve got a schedule,” Michael takes his hands away and covers his mouth as he yawns.

“That’s not what I’ve asked.”

Michael watches him carefully before replying:

“Ask me when I’m awake,” and once again hides under the covers.

Yet Dick leaves for his damn meeting satisfied. But maybe he thinks too much about tying Michael’s hands with this necktie all the way. 


	23. (Lucifer/Raphael)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raph & Lucifer. Reading a book together.

Raphael doesn’t want to be here. Lucifer can see it in the smallest shifts of his grace, his nose wrinkling no doubt catching scent of blood that spilled here. Blood of the innocent. It’s Nick’s home.

Lucifer is sitting on the bed in the dark watching his brother not quite believing he really came. Raphael looks around, looks at anything but Lucifer, until he finally speaks.

“Never thought I would hear your prayer again,” voice carefully clean from emotions. Lucifer will never get used to this.

“Never did I,” but he had to see the healer once again, to be sure that… he doesn’t even know. “And you Raphael, do you pray?”

Raphael’s glare is smoldering, but it’s something. He opens his mouth about to say something, but then shuts it and looks away. In shame. Something Lucifer never got to experience.

“Do you? Or don’t you? Tell me,” Lucifer commands having no right to do it. And Raphael reminds him of it.

“You are not the one to question me.”

“Then who is? Michael?” Lucifer can’t keep the hostility in. “Maybe Gabriel? Or Father?”

Window is slowly being covered with frost. Sudden and threatening rumble of thunder outside breaks freezing silence.

“Not you, that’s all you have to know.”

Lucifer sneers at such insolence from little brother. And he is almost disappointed that it’s only an act, a shield.  
“Sit,” Lucifer pats the bed invitingly.

Raphael hesitates and keeps standing, his grace stills tiredly.

“What do you want from me, Lucifer?” a mere whisper, broken and hollow.

“I want you to sit with me. That’s all.” For now.

Raphael does as he’s told. Their vessels are apart further than their grace, brushing painfully against each other. Raphael stares into nothingness refusing to meet his fallen brother’s eyes. Seems like Lucifer hasn’t lost all the power over younger angel. But now Lucifer doesn’t know what else to do. He has questions, so many questions and all of them are sharper than swords and spears. Can he afford hurting Raphael more than he already did?

Lucifer catches a sight of a small book on Nick’s nightstand. No, his dead wife’s. A bible, New Testament. Ridiculous. Still, he starts flipping through it.

“Lazarus. Where it is?”

Raphael flinches. In quivering voice he replies:

“In fourth gospel, look there.”

“Read to me.”

“No…” this reluctance is not a simple stubbornness. There is fear and sorrow nested between Raphael’s wing.

“Why not? I’m curious, I missed that part,” he missed a lot. Yet demons were whispering about this particular miracle for a while.

“Human words, empty and wrong, do you want to hear them?” bitter chuckle passes his brother’s lips.

“As long as you will be saying them.”

Raphael finally raises his head and looks at Lucifer strangely, then accepts the book and finds that part at once. Taking deep breath he starts reading, voice deep and calm, but his grace gets sharper at the edges. Lucifer is mesmerized by the changes occurring to Raphael with every word. He keeps his voice flat, vessel’s face doesn’t betray a thing, but Lucifer knows how to look at Raphael and see him. Raphael lets his guard now and Lucifer shifts closer, making his sibling shiver with cold.

“Jesus said to her, “Your brother will rise again.” Martha answered, “I know he will rise again in the resurrection at the last day.” Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die; and whoever lives by believing in me will never die. Do you believe this?”

Raphael stops and his eyes are shining with salt water and Lucifer knows that Raphael doesn’t believe, can’t believe. His voice begins to strain as he reads Martha’s reply:

“Yes, Lord! I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, who is to come into the world.”

Something is breaking somewhere, cracking and leaving a split leading into the abyss.

“See how he loved him!” But some of them said, “Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?”

None of them is blind, but Lucifer isn’t fooling himself, that both of them prefer to keep their eyes closed. It’s easier this way. It hurts less. Raphael blinks once before getting to the raising of Lazarus. His hands are shaking, but not from Lucifer’s burning. When he reads Jesus’ prayer he is shaking all over:

“Father, I thank you that you have heard me…. I knew…” Raphael loses his voice completely and throws holy bible away.

But Lucifer has already memorized the inked lines on the paper.

“I knew that you always hear me,” he continues where Raphael finished.

Not letting his brother shut him out or open wide his thunder wings, holding his wrists, Lucifer keeps reading without book. Raphael ceases struggling giving into Lucifer’s voice and the words he doesn’t want to hear.

“Take off the grave clothes and let him go,” Lucifer finishes. “Isn’t it a good end?” he wonders. “Wasn’t it a miracle?”

“You still have so much faith, it amazes me,” admits Raphael. “But I know. I was there. I saw Lazarus. Or what he became. He didn’t forget death, his body didn’t forget rotting in the tomb, his soul touched the eternity and that void overwhelmed him.”

Raphael shivers again and leans into his brother frozen touch that is somehow warmer that this chilling fear he feels.

 “Nothing could warm him, even withering sun above the desert. He was always so cold, Lucifer. Even you can’t imagine how cold he was,” and oh, Lucifer would like to argue, but Raphael always knows what he is talking about.

Raphael clutches his hand desperately and whispers:

“If this is price of the salvation…” he doesn’t dare to say it. Doesn’t dare to say that he wants it no more than Lucifer.  
Rain taps the window. Ice is now melting and drips down on the windowsill. The rest is silence. 


	24. (Lucifer/Michael)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michifer. Hades and Persephone AU. Sweet pea - delicate pleasures, Lily - majesty.

Lucifer escaped another feast on Olympus. He doesn’t know what has come over him, but suddenly he couldn’t take any more of merry chatter, poisonous gossips and outright slander. Not in his address, of course. His has the purest reputation up there. Or better say no reputation at all. Sometimes he wanted to do something that would make Olympians shut their mouths even if for a second.

Lucifer descends to one of his gardens to be alone and calm his sometimes too wild spirit. But among natural inhabitants of this place there is an intruder. Or a guest. Lucifer hasn’t decided yet. He looks from behind the tree at a young god in sable robes, who seems to be captivated by crimson blossoms.

Lucifer knows who he is, though never before he has seen him. Everybody knows who he is. Well, Lucifer feels brave enough to greet the stranger.

“Don’t gardens of Elysium satisfy you, Prince Michael?”

Handsome face turns and Lucifer wonders how his eyes can be so hollow and yet this sharp and piercing. Michael bows his head in greeting. Weird, no other gods ever bother to. That deserves at least a gracious smile.

Lucifer comes closer. It looks like his guest wants to step away.

“Don’t worry, this is not Olympus. You are welcome here.”

Grateful smile crosses noble features and Lucifer starts thinking Michael is mute.

“Can’t you speak? I feel like a fool talking to myself,” he complains crossing arms on his chest. “Or maybe you’re at loss of words over my stunning presence?” Lucifer sounds more mocking than teasing.

“I’m just not great at words, but I see why that could be the case,” Michael finally speaks and for some reason Lucifer feels his face heating. His voice is quiet, yet it seems no other sounds are capable to overcome it. “This place is magnificent, but what can be more beautiful than hands that created it?”

Lucifer has never heard such recognition before. Not from other gods anyway, they praise only his pretty face. But instead of openly accept the compliment he mumbles:

“I think I understand why they don’t want you up there…”

Michael comes nearer but not too close. Lucifer scents something sweet, almost intoxicating. There is a flower in extended hand. Its not from his garden. But it can rival in beauty with any blossom here. Gentle primrose colour, it looks like a small crown. So pretty.

“A present from my home,” explains Michael.

It probably means that her silent guest is leaving. What a shame. Lucifer takes the offered flower and keeps it close to his chest.

“Come again some time,” offers Lucifer. “I could do with some pleasant company.”

Michael leaves, but the flower he gave to Lucifer doesn’t weather for weeks.


	25. (Lucifer/Raphael)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer/Raphael. I'm not your enemy.

Filthy demonic remains are oozing with stench of sulfur, but there is a spot of the most perfect purity among them, the purity Lucifer never hoped to see or touch ever again. Raphael, terror and scourge of demons, with his wings guarding and folded, his grace gathered around him like impenetrable shield, so unlike Lucifer remembers. He remembers open arms and open heart and soft feather under his fingers.

“Won’t you turn around and look at me?” he asks and it does sound like a mockery. Lucifer almost forgot how to speak in any other way.

Silence and not even a slightest shift are his answer. So he tries again.

“Raphael, please…” he is not ashamed to plea here and now. “I am not your enemy.”

Letting out a bitter chuckle his brother finally faces him. Lucifer hates the way Raphael’s eyes glisten. Night envelopes him and stars are shining like a crown above his head, magnificent, but sorrowful.

“Forgive me, but I won’t risk believing you. Not again,” behind deep voice of the vessel there is murmur of ocean waves, cold song of rain and thunder yet far away.

Lucifer deserved it. He didn’t deserve many things, but this one is just. Not that he will say it out loud.

“What do you want, Lucifer?”

What does he want? Everything he can’t get, as always. But he sure as hell doesn’t want this anguish and pain mixed with the breath of the night.

“I wanted to see you, Little Wing.”

Corner of Raphael’s mouth twitches betraying the stone mask plastered on his face.

“So? Like what you see?” light in his eyes trembles.

No, Lucifer doesn’t like it at all. He expected the change in the other archangel, but not this profound. He stretches out his arms and dares to break into Raphael’s grace. It burns against his frozen being and sends electric shock through his worn out vessel. It’s not hostile, alerted. He puts his hands on either sides of Raphael’s face and caresses like he used to do when he was still warm.

“It doesn’t have to be like that,” he can repeat it over and over. “You don’t have to be like that, Raphael.”

“Judge me all you want, but I am too tired of all the pain you and Father unleashed on this world,” Raphael suppresses every emotion that tries to break his walls.

Lucifer doesn’t judge, but then again, Raphael won’t believe him.

Suddenly Raphael’s hand cups his cheek too and Lucifer feels the torn seams of Nick pulling back together, and even some of his own scars leaving no trace. It is what he longed for, a tender touch of healing hand. Lucifer for a moment realizes that Raphael could be his. If only he dared to ask. Raphael understood, always understood him better than anyone, but it’s too late. Lucifer betrayed him first

Raphael is gone. Rain starts pouring from clouds that hid the stars. Lucifer throws his head back and opens his palms to catch as much drops of this most likely last gift from his dearest little brother. Wind whispers ‘I’ll pray for you’ and it sounds like a farewell. The single tear is washed away before Lucifer is aware of it.


	26. (Lucifer/Michael)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michifer. Prompt: ‘I don’t have the words right now so here’s a kiss’. Devil!Michael again. I can write him forever. There is blood and side character's death.

“Oh, tragedy…” theatrically sighs Michael standing above emptied shell of their brother. “Poor Uriel wanted to be forgiven so much. Vouch for him before Father, would you? Since you couldn’t save him.” Devil raises his brow at Lucifer “Aw, don’t look at me like that. I did you a favor, you wouldn’t want a traitor in your ranks anyway.”

Lucifer pins Michael to the wall in anger. Shadows are huddling themselves in cold corners and trembling in fear. Lucifer isn’t sure of whom they are afraid more. Of the light he emanates? Or of the infernal fire in his fallen brother’s eyes? Michael is crazy. He’s gone mad, but why is it Lucifer who feels guilty about it? He punches Michael with all he’s got but it’s his blood smears devil’s grinning face.

“There is no need to stomp my love for you, my shining brother. It’s almost gone as it is.”

At first Lucifer doesn’t acknowledge these words. But as they hit the wall and ricochet towards him it cuts his ears. And then his entire being.

Michael glances at him from behind his wayward hair and laughs quietly, blood dripping from his mouth. He has every right to, Lucifer deserves this mocking. Because he is afraid, scared to death by just allowing a thought that maybe… maybe he doesn’t matter to Michael anymore. And even more scary is wondering what he loves now instead with this twisted bleeding heart of his. Lucifer wants to ask if there anything saint left. He wants to scream. He can’t. Michael’s mere presence makes Lucifer’s thoughts rush like a flock of crazed birds. Whatever he wants to say dies before it passes his lips. But at least he can make Michael shut up too.

It’s easy to lean forward and catch Michael’s strangely cold lips. Michael doesn’t even try to push him away. It’s even easier to make him willing. It’s easy to believe that now they play by his rules. And it’s easy to close his teeth over Michael’s poisonous tongue when it slips into his mouth.

Of course Lucifer chokes on it. It is the blood that makes the pits of damned boil. It is the blood that fuels the evilest things. It is his brother’s blood.

It is his brother’s hand in his hair. It is his brother’s breath on his face. It is his brother’s laugh ringing in his head.

One day Lucifer will make him repent.


	27. (Michael/Dick Roman)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick/Michael for the prompt: Kisses because everything hurts right now including being loved by you but you’re also the only thing that makes it feel better.

They hurt each other. This endless dancing barefoot on the broken glass, enticing and torturous. Such dances are not for weak. And at this point they’ll just bleed to death if they stop. But what Dick has learned in his very long and not very good life, is that nothing can last forever. He’d never say it, but he dreads the day Michael doesn’t come back. And this day will come sooner or later. Maybe Dick should leave first. Maybe it’ll save some of his pride.

It was a bad idea. But who would’ve guessed if both of them hardly gave it any thought. It was just some magnetic power, the sort that pulls you closer to the edge of a roof, mockingly promising a flight. It’s just a question of time when Dick hits the bottom. And Michael… he can fly.  

The angel appears from nowhere and takes place on Dick’s laps and kisses him, too softly, always bashful, always like the first time, always like doubting it’s what he should do. It certainly isn’t something enemies do. But Dick enjoys letting Michael grow bolder and encouraging him. He loves the way Michael dig nails into him, it hurts less than anything else. Hmm, the real Dick Roman knew this feeling. He liked killing himself, every time in different fashion, all to not deaden inside.

Dick recognizes the moment when Michael is about to fly away again and decides that it’s time. It should be over. And if Dick knows what’s good for him, he can do it.

“If you go now, don’t come back,” he almost adds ‘please’. He hasn’t but it didn’t sound convincing at all.

Michael watches him intently and Dick shivers under his gaze. It’s too easy to get lost there. Fathomless emptiness that’s too similar to the one that is consuming him from inside.

“I want to stay, Richard.”

And there is a ‘but’ coming, so Dick saves Michael the effort:

“It doesn’t matter what you want,” if it did, Dick could’ve been already dead for a long-long time.

Michael nods and doesn’t have a decency to look sorry. Michael doesn’t have to pretend around Dick, he has literally been under his skin once. And now he remembers what kind of poison is running through archangel’s veins, almost can taste it again.

Michael tears his eyes from his and it feels like he’s just ripped a piece out of Dick. Cruel as always. One of Dick’s favorite things about him. If it hurts it means Dick is still here, still alive. Hunger doesn’t hurt. At this point it just kills quietly, gnawing at him by nearly insensible degrees.

Dick closes his eyes. Sight is so distracting, he never needed it. But he adapted to it. And yet he is more blind than ever now, when he dares to hope. His eyelid is on fire as Michael touches it with his lips. Like another sharp shard of glass pierces it. Yes, very Michael’s way to say goodbye.

But Michael hasn’t disappeared yet. Heat between them hasn’t cooled down even a degree. Fingers lightly touching his skin feel like needles. Whatever it means Dick can’t take it as victory, Michael will never be his, not completely. But as he opens his eyes Michael smiles at him with his sad smile and his eyes shine with something that any other would identify as ‘love’. If it is the last thing Dick wants is to admit it. It will make everything much worse. Or maybe this is exactly what he wants?

To not dwell on it Dick just pulls Michael closer and kisses him, his teeth drawing blood from corner of his mouth. It burns like always. If measured, even poison can be a cure. But they both know no measure.


	28. (Lucifer/Michael)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michifer. “This wasn’t how i planned our first date!”  
> This is some vague mercenary AU or whatever AU that includes guns and violence. You decide how serious all this flirting ahead is.

“That’s not how I planned our first date,” admits Lucifer. It’s supposed to be a joke, but all the fun is being killed by Michael’s hiss, when Lucifer wraps aluminum tape around the wound in his side.

Raphael is going to kill him. Both of them probably, if Michael doesn’t bleed and die on him first. The big red and brown stains on the armchair point that this is a possibility. It’s a miracle he didn’t leave bloody trail on the way to the room.

“If that was a date there will be no survivors after your wedding,” Michael half coughs half laughs and spits more blood into handkerchief.

Seems like his partner finds the situation more humorous. Or maybe he’s already high on painkillers he took a minute ago. Or maybe not, judging by another grimace that doesn’t suit that pretty face at all. But Lucifer can play this game, since he’s the one who started it.

“Aw, that’s just so sweet! You plan this far ahead. But you see it’s me and you in a nice hotel room, so you might as well say that we have started our honeymoon,” he concludes, though the room doesn’t have a great view outside the window and he would have undressed Michael for other purposes than treating his wounds.

“Are you saying that the worst is behind?” Michael smiles weakly.

Hardly. Lucifer has to keep an eye on the door, because who knows if they are safe.

“Yeah. Exactly,” Lucifer takes his hand and is a little calmed when Michael squeezes back slightly. “Sorry I was late for the party,” he got stalled.

“You didn’t miss much, came just in time,” Michael assures. But if Lucifer did, they wouldn’t have this weird conversation at all. He has to avert his eyes, though he doubts Michael sees it.

“Just so you know, if you dare to pass out, I’ll totally kiss you when you wake up,” warns Lucifer because Michael gets sleepy.

“Ooh, in this case I’ll do my best to keep my eyes opened,” Michael promises.

“You better.”


	29. Agelast (Gabriel & Raphael)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Agelast - person who never laughs for Raphael&Gabriel. I was asked to write about kid!Gabriel. I suppose it should have been fluff, instead it's pure angst, because Raphael is a mess.

“You don’t laugh anymore, Raphael,” sound little voice pierces heavy silence.

Raphael has a problem. This hallucination started talking to him just recently, but he’s been seeing it for much longer than he would like to admit. Gabriel he sees looks not that big, not scary, not cruel, not like he can disappear any second soon and never return again. It’s probably Raphael’s favorite version of his brother, the one he saw first. Hard to believe that this little hands held him so easily. Hard to believe Raphael has ever been even smaller.

“Go away,” Raphael turns away and closes his eyes. He knows he doesn’t try hard enough to get rid of this illusion. Despite how much it hurts, he likes having it around.

He can swear this thing tugs on his sleeve. Raphael slaps little hand away but there is nothing. Air. Just cold air.

“You don’t even look sad. It’s not right. Cry or smile, just stop looking at me like this!”

And this hallucination is more observant than his brother was. Gabriel wouldn’t care. He doesn’t. And Raphael shouldn’t care, too. But deep inside he hopes… he hopes that he is still sane and this happy illusion might be sent by Gabriel. It’s stupid. Foolish beyond imaginable. But faith in this is stronger than in Father and his Plan.

“If I smile, will you leave?” he asks quietly.

Gabriel or whatever it really is nods:

“I promise, but smile just once!” he begs and his lashes flutter flicking crystal clear drops away.

Raphael bites his lip.

“Raphael, please! You scare me!”

He scares himself sometimes. But Gabriel was never intimidated by him, by many things, but not by Raphael. How strange. How strange that Raphael can stand these teary golden eyes.

If he smiles it leaves, or so it promised. But… Raphael doesn’t want it. He’ll get to used to it. He just needs to… Raphael kneels down on the grass and puts out his hands, his weak tired hands.

“Come here, Gabriel.”

Gabriel runs and throws his arms around him. And Raphael can feel them, he can feel the warmth, can smell fresh morning in curly hair. Now that Gabriel can’t see, Raphael allows corners of his mouth go up just a little. This little ghost will never see Raphael smile. So it means he’ll never leave, right?


	30. Of love and other demons (Crowley/Raphael)

Raphael waits as Crowley seals another of his deals. She doesn’t get what makes people sell their souls so cheap. How can anyone put a price on something this divine? 10 years of life and one little wish is nothing compared to eternity spent in pain. But it’s like no one realize how big and unfair this trade is, nor seller, nor buyer. And the kiss part of it is just a mocking way to put a claim on the property, put a stamp on the soul as if it’s an animal waiting for its turn in the slaughter-house.

“You are disgusting,” archangel states as Crowley finishes and ‘graces’ her with his attention. “And you call yourself a king.”

“Oh, I’m the King, love,” demon sneers and points out, “Between Heaven and Hell I’m the only king left, my little princess. And I’m afraid your sibling rivalry with Castiel won’t result with any of you on the throne.”

Raphael doesn’t want that broken throne and heavy crown. But demon doesn’t need to know that. For him she’s just another ambitious leader, cold and merciless, and it better stay this way. She can’t afford showing weakness before her enemies or allies.

“You’re a parasite, that’s what you are. You are feeding on fools like that woman just now.”

“I won’t deny that. You angels have to work on your PR department to get some these days.”

“We don’t do public relations,” they are warriors, not hagglers.

“Now-now, don’t try to fool me of all people, my dear,” Crowley looks at her as if they share a secret. “You, Raphael, are the only one I haven’t beaten in this game yet.”

Games, it’s all games for him. But Raphael has no idea what the fiend is talking about. Not that she cares. She has another purpose to come here, and it’s not an idle talk.

“I don’t care about your games, Crowley. I have a war to win,” she glared allowing a lightning spark in her eyes.

“Spare me few minutes, angel. The rest of the world can wait,” Crowley offered his arm like a gentleman he wasn’t. Of course, Raphael didn’t accept. “Ok, I’m used to get cold shoulders. But you… you are supposed to be anything but cold, Israfel.”

“Don’t you dare, demon,” Raphael warns. “You know nothing about me. Make your deals, keep stealing souls, but don’t even try to get under my skin. Or you, indeed, shall burn,” she promises.

Raphael knows he is afraid of her, King of Hell or not. But he is smart and knows to make himself useful before she decides to smite him.

“Kinky,” an attempt of teasing. “But about the deals… do you know how it works, Raphael? Because we’re about to make one, you and I.”

“I don’t have a soul to sell. Your dogs will sooner break their teeth than take me. And you don’t really have that much to offer,” she turns away to meet the bleeding red sun on the horizon. But it’s not as red as Crowley’s eyes when she looks at him again.

“Oh, I can offer you plenty. But it’s not anything you would take, princess. If you did, you wouldn’t need me. I can trade anything for a soul: wealth, talent, health, even happiness – anything but one single thing,” crossroad demon makes a pause and continues somewhat bitterly, “something for what people pray your god and you in particular.”

Raphael sighs knowing exactly what it’s about. Cupid bow is meant for angels only.

“Why should it bother you, Crowley? Even in life you couldn’t give it to anyone,” his mother and son are best examples. “Or what is it? Are you holding that against me? I don’t recall hearing you ever pray to me,” she wonders if she would answer if he did.

“I just don’t get it. Why you? What can  _you_  know about love? Even among angels. You are too… pure,” it seems like Crowley wanted to offend but didn’t find a right word.

Raphael is hardly clean. She had to wade through oceans of blood. But she knows why it makes the demon confused.

“Love doesn’t have to be dirty,” more so, it’s not even meant to be. “You’ve said you’re a lover, not a fighter, Crowley,” she remembers his words from their first meeting. “Well, I am too. I’m a lover without a lover,” she had to learn it the hard way, but now she can wear it like armor. She even smiles at the face Crowley makes at this statement.

“Now, that’s just sad. Never wanted to rectify such injustice?” sounds like an offer. Huh.

Raphael gets it’s just a joke and replies in the same manner.

“You don’t get to decide what is just, demon. Help me to put Castiel in his place and we may discuss our love lives after that.”

If Crowley lives long enough, that is. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ship honestly deserves better...


	31. Sirens' call (Eve/Lilith)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for SPN Rare Ship Creation Challenge. Prompt: Colors - [Jelly bean](https://www.w3schools.com/colors/colors_crayola.asp)

Jar hits the floor scattering around colorful candies mixed with glass shards, in sunlight they are iridescent. Lilith hates the sun, hates those sweet sugary candies, hates that this small mouth of her tiny meatsuit waters because of them. Only broken glass feels like home. She takes a handful as a vague memory awakens beneath the chains and thorns of her existence.

 

Seashore covered with colorful rocks. They cut her bare feet as she walks along. Without purpose – strange, wrong. She feels empty like those shells on the wet sand. Eve walks beside her, her steps are impossibly light and sharp stones don’t hurt her. Eve is beautiful. Not like father. She is warm and smells like rainy summer. But just like with father it hurts to watch, hurts to be near. Eve is warm, but Lilith shivers, when those fingers brush her tangled hair.

“Someone’s singing,” Lilith catches a faint song brought by the tide. No way a wind could sing so sweetly.

“Those are my daughters singing,” Eve says fondly. “Do you like it?”

“It’s beautiful,” it’s not an answer. Lilith doesn’t like it, this crushing all-consuming longing in every note, treachery and danger, promises that have to be broken. “It sounds like…” she isn’t sure like what.

Eve takes her hand and leads her knees-deep into the water. It’s cold, but compared to father’s embrace it feels boiling hot. Salt bites into the cuts on her feet and she shuts her eyes.

“Sounds like love itself,” Eve whispers.

Lilith can’t help but agree. She knows exactly what love is. Love is cold fingers wrapped around your heart. Love is the force that engulfs you deep and doesn’t let go. Love is when you fall asleep in a puddle of your own blood and see the best dreams.

“Your daughters… do you love them?” she asks. What she means is: _‘Do you love them like my father loves me?’_

Eve laughs and squeezes her hand slightly.

“How can I not? Mother always loves her children. But you wouldn’t know that, would you?”

No, of course not. Her father is everything she ever had. Father is everything. _‘And you are nothing,’_ stupid voice inside her head keeps lying. Lilith doesn’t ask if Eve’s loves her. Because she knows Eve does, she loves easily, readily, deadly… sometimes Lilith thinks it doesn’t matter to Eve whom to love. But...

 

But summer is long over, she remembers. Autumn is sobbing into the windows. Candies melt in her hand, sticky and disgusting, glass shards break tender skin and all she wants is to hurt someone.

Lilith left only ash on Eve’s lips. Salty and bitter. Eve left only warm breath in her hair. After all, she wasn’t Eve’s to ruin.


	32. Broken things (Lucifer/Raphael)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer visits Raphael, while he's trapped in holy fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for SPN Rare Ship Creation Challenge. Prompt - colors, Dingy Dungeon (shade of purple).

“What a sorry sight, mighty archangel in amateur’s trap!”

At that Raphael gets up to his feet from the cold floor and just looks at Lucifer.

“Nothing to say, little brother?”

He probably didn’t expect Lucifer, but he doesn’t show it, doesn’t show anything at all. Flames cast dancing shadows on his vessel’s face and unclear silhouette of his wings.  

“Nothing,” he confirms. “You wouldn’t listen anyway, and why should you? You are going to destroy the world.”

“I’m not the villain here, Raphael,” Lucifer sneers.

“Who is then? Michael? Father? Gabriel? Perhaps, it’s me?” only a hint of bitter smile touches the archangel’s lips.

 “I hold nothing against you personally,” Lucifer replies carelessly. It’s true though.  

“I guess I’m that insignificant. Oh, no, don’t say it’s not true,” Raphael stops him. Dark velvet laughter makes Lucifer’s skin crawl a little. “I’m still but a dumb little brother of yours.”

Never dumb. Raphael’s wisdom often made Lucifer self-conscious.

“It’s been a long time, are you not going to hug me like you use to?” Lucifer offers mockingly.

“To think there was a time, when oceans were quiet and we, like fools, believed in eternal love,” Raphael copies his tone.

“Are you saying you don’t love me anymore, Raphael?” Lucifer jokes, though actually being afraid to hear an answer.

“I’m just saying that I was a fool,” Raphael shrugs. “And so were you.”

All his stance is rather indifferent. But… there is something about his eyes. Lucifer with amazement realizes that it’s scary to look him in the eyes. No, not those warm brown irises of the vessel. Raphael’s own violet eyes that shine through the mortal shell, they used to have this soft, gentle shade, like the most precious flowers on the earth. Now it’s darkened, tainted with spilled blood, untold secrets and visions of death. Where once were clear transparent lakes now there are deep dangerous tunnels, lairs of dragons, which now in slumber wait to be awakened to burn everything to the ground. It's not just his eyes. Raphael has grown into something Lucifer can’t perceive yet. Something unbearably solemn and sunless.

Suddenly the roof crashes downs under immense force of nature that abides to the younger archangel and the holy fire dies under simple raindrops. Storm ends in seconds, but the message is clear.

The flames are gone and Raphael is still here, his wings folded. He doesn’t call his soldiers either. But perhaps it’s also a show of power.

“What are you waiting for, Raphael?” Lucifer wonders.

“For a part where you put a blade under my ribs,” follows serious reply.

Lucifer huffs a laugh when he realizes it’s a joke. Raphael always has had rather dark humor. He missed it.

“Join me,” Lucifer blurts out before he can’t stop himself.

Raphael tilts his head and studies him with clinical attention. Not a muscle moves on his strict face, except for slight narrow of his eyes. Then he approaches him in few big silent steps and their graces collide against each other: snowstorm and hurricane don’t repel each other, but sing in catastrophic unison, making the stars above scream. Quiet voice doesn’t break this melody.

“You know, if you asked me back then, I wouldn’t even have to think. There was nothing I wouldn’t do for you, was nowhere I wouldn’t follow you. Anyway, it’s funny that you ask now.”

Lucifer finds himself averting his eyes and quickly looks back in Raphael’s mysterious dangerous orbs. Raphael’s noticed, of course, but doesn’t comment on it in any way, doesn’t hurt his pride.   

“Is it too late?” what a stupid question.

“For us – it’s always too late,” it’s Raphael’s turn to hide his eyes. “But for them, Lucifer, it’s not too late to yearn forgiveness.”

Them… humans, lowly worms, that somehow took his place in Father’s heart.  

“Do you really care for them?” Lucifer asks dubiously.

“Care?” Raphael laughs again. “It’s more than that. In sickness and health, through foul and fair, I share their pain and fears. Don’t you know what I am? Health of the sick, refuge in all of human trials, scourge of demons, filled with the mercy of God,” archangel repeats human words with transparent hurt and the word _‘God’_ is filled with unspoken resentment.

“They are broken, Raphael,” Lucifer points out with pity. “They don’t deserve salvation,” he nearly says _‘they don’t deserve you’_.

“Salvation,” Raphael repeats wistfully. “Oh Lucifer, I fell in love with broken things even before I knew the meaning of brokenness.”

He holds his hands out like he’s holding the whole Earth between them. And Lucifer understands. If Raphael joins him now, then all his efforts, all his endeavors, loss and sacrifices will be in vain. And he dared to ask him this much, ask to choose him and throw everything else away. But isn’t he worth it?

Lucifer firmly takes those beautiful, strong healing hands in his cold destroying ones. Lucifer is selfish, too selfish to let Raphael slip away from his grasp.

“I love broken things, too,” Lucifer whispers putting his forehead against Raphael’s, caressing his wings with his, his grace chanting litanies that vessel’s clumsy tongue can’t manage.

Raphael’s resolve is holding onto thin air. Lucifer steals that air with one chaste kiss and Raphael is suffocating, his eyes widen and dragons awaken. Next kiss is not nearly as innocent and Lucifer with delight listens the dragons roar. The dungeon hides treasures. Lucifer will tame those dragons and have them all.


	33. Pas de deux (Abaddon/Naomi)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For SPN Rare Ship Creation Challenge. Prompt - sleet.  
> Ballet AU Abaddon is a knight in shining armor (obviously knight from Hell).

Abaddon should’ve dropped the ballet school months ago. It’s just not her thing. She hates her father who thought that all girls should dance and have an over-split. Now she’s 18 and can do whatever she wants and, thank you very much, ballet is not it. She still works decently, because she’s too pride and wants all the teachers beg her not to leave.

She rolls her eyes when their instructor for the hundredth time tells them to follow Naomi’s example. No way in hell.

Naomi. Girl with eyes made of the bluest ice. Perfect technique. Pretty, but detached. Literal ice queen. A touch of passion and she would be the prima ballerina. But from other point of view, it’s what makes her strong. There are “passionate” girls here - they all are crybabies. And Naomi is so hardworking (even though she usually looks like she doesn’t even try) that Abaddon has no other choice but respect it, though she allows herself to make fun of it from time to time.

Anyway, the torture is going to end after few repeats of the last enchaine-ment.

How good it feels to let hair down from this awful tight bun. It makes her look stupid. She’s about to take her bag and leave everyone to their gossiping and whatever. Suddenly Abaddon stops and watches as Naomi takes of her shoe she’s just put on and shakes it. Something shiny sheds on the floor. She doesn’t see what it is but she clearly sees red on that delicate foot. Blood.

“What the fuck?!” she doesn’t even try to control herself, while Naomi seems completely unfazed, just sits and begins to inspect her cuts. Maybe she’s a biorobot that doesn’t feel pain, but Abaddon isn’t going to let it slide. She turns around to look every other girl in the eyes. They all are shocked, wide eyes, hands clasped at their pretty little mouths. And still, one of them did it. Who else could it be? But no, Abaddon is not going to look for and expose the culprit, she’ll just scare the shit out of them and everyone else for a company. “Really? Pouring glass into someone’s shoes just because they are better than you? That’s just pathetic. She works her ass out, while you sit on yours being jealous. And what, you think she’ll just cry and doesn’t come back tomorrow to put you in shame? In your fucking dreams.” And she just goes on like that, until she’s sure everyone got the point. Only then she lets them go and they gladly run away.

“Well, that was unnecessarily harsh,” Naomi comments, speaking for the first time. “You’ve just stomped their egos into the ground.”  

“I didn’t see you trying to stop me. And don’t even dare to thank me,” she warns. No dumb ideas should get into that pretty head.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Naomi chuckles and puts plaster on the last cut, but Abaddon can’t miss that ice in her eyes is melting with unshed tears.

Any decent person would avert their eyes, but Abaddon isn’t about to respect Naomi’s dignity. But Naomi isn’t averting her eyes either.

“Have you not started that impressive speech, I’d blame this on you,” Naomi smiles. Weird thing it’s not her usual condescending smile, but something sincere instead, softening the words. “Just joking, I’m sure you would have thought of something more creative and humiliating.”

What the..? Flatterer. Abaddon grins.

“Obviously. I mean, you’re a bitch alright, but that was just low,” she says dismissively. “You done? Let’s go.”

“You didn’t have to wait for me. I might start thinking I’m special,” Naomi teases. Really, since when she has it in her? Where’s the ice queen?

“You are especially annoying,” Abaddon replies.

It’s nasty outside. She can’t tell if it’s snowing or raining. Probably both. And she didn’t think to take an umbrella. Damn, she can’t wait for real winter. Suddenly Naomi puts her umbrella above her head too. And it means she’s standing really close.

“It’s just snow,” Abaddon tries.

“Yes, very wet snow,” Naomi comments dryly.

“Shit, why must you always be right?” she huffs but shifts even closer.

She tries not to dwell on how pleased she is when Naomi takes her by the arm. Because her foot hurts, of course.

Seems like she’ll have to give the school another month. Not to make sure no one is bullied. It’s just the girls are pretty. And the prettiest one is walking with her right now. Naomi. Girl with eyes made of the bluest ice. One days she will be standing on the stage, showered with applause. Abaddon hopes she will be somewhere near to see it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My dream is to write a big ballet story about these two. But I doubt it'll come true.


	34. Ash in the wind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I actually wrote this a while ago, inspired by a song. It's about phoenix and my headcanons of their origin. Phoenixes are not exactly monsters, they don’t feed on humans. And here comes a weird idea. Their power to incinerate a being by simple touch… yeah, I believe they are connected to Michael, but not in paternal way. I think they raised from the ashes the first Eden was turned into during the first heaven war. Also, they are affected by iron, so they could be considered… maybe ghosts of paradise?

There used to be a garden somewhere high above, so much higher than you can reach on your burning wings. The freezing heights won’t let you up. In that garden there was a tree, tall and strong and evergreen… And someone who was brighter than a summer day and warm like gentle sun, someone who was there before trees and grass, someone who stayed after that tree and everything around had burnt to the cinder.

Can you see him still? Shrouded in the brightest flames, crying out fire, bleeding out fire, living and dying in infernal blaze, but never ever dead. Yet you were dead, dust under his feet, ash in his hair, until your remains were carried thousands miles away by harsh wind and giant flapping wings.

Then it was only cold, freezing cold chasing you like a prey in the feather grass under stellar tent. True warmth is like a tumbleweed, it leaves as soon as you catch it. And all you want is to burn again. To be alive. No matter how much it hurts. He was beautiful when he was burning, and so can you.

Black coals make light empty bones, white dust cover you with feathers and scarlet ember beats in your rib cage. A passion, wild and overcoming, envelopes you in fiery cloak, but why isn’t it warm enough? At least you can fly. At least the cruel wind can’t rule over you anymore. At least… at least you’re alive. Never tall or evergreen again, but strong, so strong.

Soul without a body, bird without a nest. You will never die. You will never come home. But eventually even distant memory of it will sink in flames. It will be just you and the wind. For all eternity. 


End file.
